Loverboy
by eelatan
Summary: A closed case. A night on the tiles. A burlesque dancer and a black and white photograph. Sherlock & Nicholas have no idea what happened last night.


I've had this written for a while and wasn't entirely sure whether I should post it anywhere but I re-read tonight and decided a little Sherlock/Hot Fuzz crossover might be appreciated by someone! Entirely OoC and probably a bit silly but I felt inspired after **THAT** photo of Simon Pegg & Benedict Cumberbatch together so this little bit of light-hearted tomfoolery entered my brain. Enjoy ;)

I don't own any of the Sherlock characters or any of the Hot Fuzz ones.

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Loverboy

Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose as he hung his sorry head over the edge of his double bed. There was a thunderous thumping corroding the front of his head and he was struggling to force his eyes to open. He wasn't usually this kind of person. In fact, he had never been this kind of person but apparently, last night he felt like he wanted to be.

Saturday evening had been a heady mix of triumph, beer and cheap shots. A combination Nicholas was starting to regret. Before he could try and recollect the events of last night, his mobile phone buzzed from somewhere in the room. Nicholas looked on the bedside table, in the bed and finally across to his trousers that were slung across the leather tub chair in the corner. That must be where it was. He stood quickly to advance towards his phone but as he did, the whole world span and he soon thudded onto his backside on the edge of the bed. A hot feeling rose up quickly in his stomach and instinct told him to make a dash for the bathroom. As soon as he was aligned with the toilet, he dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He heaved and baulked, panting heavily. When he was sure he was finished, he slumped back against the cool tiles on the wall and laughed carefully. He hadn't even gotten into such a state when he was back at Hendon. Sure there were wild nights out while he was training for the constabulary but he'd never allowed himself to get so drunk. Now he came to think about it, had he ever been drunk at all at the police training academy? He dragged himself up and went back to his room to read that text.

_Café on the corner of Baker St & Wells Place ASAP. SH_

"_Full of decorum as ever."_ thought Nicholas. His friend? No, colleague? Well whatever he was, Sherlock Holmes had text Nicholas Angel to invite him out for breakfast and this was not in any way normal. Nicholas quickly punched back a reply and headed for a cool shower.

Sherlock Holmes was having a completely alien experience. Is this what John would constitute as a hangover? Sherlock had a headache, he'd sustained bruises that he couldn't account for, his stomach was doing somersaults and his wallet was decidedly empty. The one thing that was frustrating him above all else was the fact that his memory of much of the previous evening was extremely cloudy. Why had he taken it upon himself to consume so much alcohol? Outside influence, he thought to himself. John Watson, Nicholas Angel and himself had closed a very obscure and long running case for Lestrade yesterday and a few of the Yarders and beat constables that Angel had roped in had forced him to go and celebrate their achievement. Sherlock cursed himself for going along in the first place but the look on Johns face had told him that he should at least 'show face' to be considerate and maybe a little _human_. Whatever that was supposed to mean. John had started to enjoy himself more and more as the night progressed, laughing and joking with the Yarders and constables while Sherlock and Nicholas had sat apart from the group, giving the case its post mortem. The rowdy group had insisted on buying them one drink and to be polite, Nicholas had accepted on their behalf. When two pints of beer were set on the table before them, Sherlock had looked at Nicholas and sighed. Nicholas rolled his eyes exasperatingly and began to glug back his pint without taking a breath. Sherlock watched, open mouthed, as the Sergeant's drink disappeared rapidly. Nicholas set the empty glass back on the table as the Yarders and constables whooped and cheered. All eyes then turned to Sherlock expectantly. Before he knew what was happening, there were scores of empty pint glasses on his and Sergeant Angels table and he was feeling rather light headed and giddy.

From what he could piece together, the group made their way through several bars, drinking copiously throughout. When some of the younger officers decided it was time to head to a club, John had made his and Sherlock's excuses and limped them both home to bed, or so he thought. Judging from the trail of destruction leading from the front door of 221b up to his bedroom door, he had decided to undress on his way up the stairs. Articles of his well-tailored clothing lay, hap-hazardly, at various intervals down the hall. He raked a hand through his bedraggled dark curls and strained to listen through the pounding in his head. John's gargantuan snores could be heard eliciting from his bedroom upstairs so obviously he'd successfully negotiated his way to his sleeping quarters. Sherlock's phone buzzed in his hand and he blinked at the message on the small screen through squinted eyes.

_I'll be there in an hour or maybe two, depending on whether I can walk. NA_

Sherlock snorted quietly and padded gently back to his room, collecting his discarded clothing on the way.

Nicholas was the first to arrive at the bustling café. He made his way to the back where there was less noise and less people and where the smell of the greasy food couldn't get to his stomach as efficiently as elsewhere in the building. A young waitress with vibrant red hair and a sleeve of tattoos covering her right arm came to his table to take his order. She smiled down at him as she walked over and saw Nicholas looking a little green around the gills.

"Heavy one last night was it?" she smirked as she pulled a pen and note pad out of her apron.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Angel mumbled, lifting his head precariously to look at her.

"Oh I think I might." She smiled at him cheekily again, revealing perfect white teeth behind her ruby painted lips.

"That bad?" He asked.

"Not at all, in fact you look okay considering the state you were in last night. Two teas?" The waitress quirked before turning on her heel and making her way back to the counter.

The sergeant frowned and was about to inquire as to how she knew about the level of intoxication he was under last night but as he looked up, she was already leaving the table. Nicholas watched her all the way before his view was crudely blocked by a mass of dark denim. Nicholas looked up to see a pale and dishevelled Sherlock stood by the table, swaying very slightly. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a white polo top. Nicholas could hardly believe his eyes at the uncharacteristic outfit.

"Ordered you a tea." Chuckled Nicholas, as he watched Sherlock carefully seat himself in the chair to his right.

"Very kind of you Sergeant Angel. Now, I'm having some very slight trouble in recalling some of the events of last night…" Sherlock started before Nicholas interrupted.

"Don't even bother asking me to fill the gaps because I haven't a clue what we did either. I don't even remember how I got home and now apparently, _that_ waitress knows who I am and how drunk I was last night." He said, jabbing a finger in the redhead's direction. Both men turned to look at her as she worked away on their tea behind the counter. Her waist was slim but her chest and hips were larger however, still perfectly proportioned. Her figure was what John would call 'womanly' or he would say she had 'curves in all the right places'. Nothing about her seemed familiar to either of them though.

"How does she know you?" quizzed Sherlock.

"Do you think if I knew why such an attractive woman knew of my existence, I'd still be sat across the table from you?"

"Point taken." Muttered Sherlock.

The attractive waitress was on her way back to the table with their tea and Nicholas swallowed hard, ready to admit defeat and ask her how and why she knew him.

"There you go lads, take it slowly now, don't want any sick on the floor this morning. Bad news for everyone!" she laughed. Sherlock and Nicholas smiled half-heartedly before the latter cleared his throat to speak. The redhead looked at him expectantly.

"Um, I just wanted to ask… I was really very drunk last night and to be completely honest with you, I do not have any memory of you whatsoever and you said before you knew the state I was in last night…" He trailed off and looked down at the wooden table top in shame as he rubbed the back of his aching neck. Sherlock watched the waitress as the corner of her mouth quirked skyward and she let out a small, girlish chuckle. She scooted into their booth on the padded bench opposite them and folded her arms on the table.

"This isn't my only job boys. This is just the one I do in the waking hours. After dark I'm a burlesque performer at Kiki Dee's Strip Tease in town and that is where you two and a few of your friends ended up last night." She smiled provocatively.

Sherlock and Nicholas stared at her wide eyed then looked to each other.

"I do apologise if we caused you any inconvenience, Miss…?" Sherlock was looking for her name.

"Lilly, or as you would have known me last night, Lulu Loveless." She winked cheekily as she was about to stand.

"Twenty pounds!" exclaimed Sherlock as Lilly got to her feet.

"All coming back to you now? Yes. Thank you for your rather generous tip Mr Detective." She smiled as she put on a Marilyn Monroe voice and fluttered her eyelashes. Sherlock was utterly stunned. He'd never been the type of man to go into those kinds of establishments, never mind giving the dancers a tip. In fact, the only time he'd ever ventured into a gentlemen's club was for a case and even then he hadn't enjoyed what he'd seen. He made a mental note to scold John for getting him so drunk upon his return to 221b. He became aware of the sergeant laughing beside him but before he could say anything, Lilly spoke.

"I don't know why you're so chuffed Sergeant. Your tip was rather more generous and you slipped your phone number into my suspender belt!" she laughed.

The colour drained from Sergeant Angels' face as it was now Sherlock's turn to laugh.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry." He flopped his head forward onto the table.

"Don't worry about it; I didn't even have to give either of you a striptease for the money. The pair of you decided I was the best looking performer in the joint and paid me in honour of the title." Lilly laughed, reaching into the pocket of her skinny jeans and retrieving her mobile phone.

"Sergeant, would you agree with me when I say that our wonderful Doctor Watson should be severely reprimanded for his involvement in this highly embarrassing situation?" asked Sherlock through laughs.

"Yes I would Sherlock, definitely."

"You should also tell him that his proposal of marriage was adorable but I'll have to decline, I'm a busy girl and marriage isn't my thing at the moment." Lilly smiled.

The men across the table from her erupted into giggles as they imagined a slurring John sidling up to Lilly and declaring his undying and infinite love for her.

"I apologise for my Doctor, Miss Loveless." Smiled Sherlock, feigning a regal bow.

"No problem, Mr Consulting Detective." Lilly winked back at him. "You were my favourite customers of the night though and so I'm afraid I have to ask a favour from you?"

"Sure, anything to make up for our antics." Smiled Nicholas.

"I need a photo of you for the Legends wall at work."

Sherlock and Nicholas looked at each and smiled wearily. It couldn't get any worse than it'd been last night. Sure, they both probably looked like death but it was the least they could do for the attractive redhead. Lilly clicked her phone onto the camera function and held it up ready to take the photo. Nicholas leaned towards Sherlock and draped an arm around his shoulder while both pulled a face of stern mediocrity, trying their hardest not to portray how terrible they were feeling.

"I'll take it in black and white, more flattering." Lilly grinned as she pressed the button to capture the photo and suspend the two men in a snapshot of time for eternity. She turned the phone around to show them and they were pleasantly surprised with how they looked.

"So handsome, definitely setting that as my screensaver!" giggled Lilly as she made her way out of the booth. "Maybe see you again sometime gents?" she called behind her as she went back to the counter.

Sherlock and Nicholas looked at one another, faces full of amusement. Nicholas picked up his mug of tea and raised it towards Sherlock, who picked up his own and suspended it close to Nicholas'.

"Here's to Doctor Watson, cheap sambuca and Lulu Loveless." Grinned Nicholas.

"Cheers!" said Sherlock in his gravelly tone as their mugs chinked together.

As Nicholas departed from the café after saying his farewells to Sherlock, he decided to take a steady walk in the fresh air back to his flat rather than hale a taxi. As he rounded the corner at the end of Baker Street, his mobile buzzed in the pocket of his Harrington jacket. He lifted it out and opened the text message. He read it quickly and his eyes widened but he smiled. A proud, manly, puffed-out-chest smile.

_Are you Santa Claus? Because you left a pretty nice gift in my stocking(s) last night. Hi, it's Lilly. Kept your number ;) xx_


End file.
